Awake in the piercing darkness, dreams slipped and heat drenched, a sudden shiver comes upon me. That moment when the shine of self goes missing, where place and time and identity are shorn from sensation and the everything rushes in at once. That place where confusion is woven into the darkness, and the room seems to be filled with the echos of just used voices, and that last breath freezes, dead in your chest as you listen for hints and clues. Sweat drenched and lost, the electric clinging rides my senses blind through the boneyard night.
Outside it is moths and spiders, half a moon loitering in the trees to the east. Cepheus and Cassiopeia trawling the usual confusion of Andromeda and Pegasus. The sweat drenched t-shirt cools in the wary air, summer still getting in its licks. Alone is a notion crafted by the hearts of billions. Alone is the work of angels, dragging it back from hermitage to the crowd. I learn to breathe anew, not even stopping to find my place in the stars.
We are always exposed, dim and mortal on this seething map of happenstance and coincidence. We are fragile and remote, always on the verge of something, mostly unexplained. I wake to these old wounds and fresh obsolescence, knowing my work in my bones. I will leave a light on, so you can find your way back. I will hold the door open, just a little longer. I will carry your portion when it is too heavy to move. Endurance is our only blessing, kindness is just the swallowing of our many rancid sins. The hour doesn't matter, and my mood is always poor. Still I will wait for you. I will walk with you through the graveyard gloom, bearing the weight of your wings until you are ready again to take to the boundless black sky.
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